Tuesday, June 24, 2014

Desert Cottontail Tries to Die

I watched the sky die slowly
Driving on a road with no speed limit
And for me, no destination
Leaving it to the dark road to navigate
My car at 90 mph.

The desert's stars and my headlights
Lighting up the path, 
Lighting up a Cottontail 
Making his wild dash for my wheels.

The Cottontail tried his best
To get hit by my car
As I helplessly watched him
Blinded by indecision
Running first out, then back
Then out again.

Sia's voice singing "Numb"
On the car's shuffle play, 
I was just off the phone:
I'd broken up a relationship 
That had only just began,
Hoping it's quick death 
Meant less pain.

The Cottontail was like a wave
In an ocean's storm tossed back and forth
Of his own accord
Just as suddenly as he appeared,
He found a calm shore:
A sagebrush.

In the middle of the desert 
A movie theater beckoned, 
I'm near Vegas afterall, but still
It's presence, a wave of deja vu
That swept me inside.

Inside the dark theater, I'm the only viewer
I want to keep watching the movie
 Yet, I'm sure I've seen it before.
I have more driving to do tonight
I quickly leave.

Back on the road, 
Sagebrush streaming past
An ocean of grey
Remembering the Cottontail's dance
I can't help but wonder
How it survived



2 comments:

  1. Sun stained sand
    Cottontail's legs uncoil with grace
    no direction,
    but none needed.
    Its button nose sifting through scents,
    of sagebrush, sunbaked sandstone,
    hot asphalt and exhaust.

    For you and Cottontail [real and imagined]
    A day full of risks.
    Some calculated, others less so.

    Like Cottontail in that indecisive moment,
    [my chest pounds] too cliche.
    To tell you this, much easier.
    That in my myth, the mountain is a mistress,
    coyote's still a trickster,
    the sun a slow heartbeat,
    and I'm the lone drummer.

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